


It is your Task

by Jetlagden



Series: James Madison Needs a Hug [1]
Category: I Made America (Web Series)
Genre: Carnival, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I Made America - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-13 06:51:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5699035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jetlagden/pseuds/Jetlagden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"James Madison has not been well since the Founding Fathers arrived in 2012, and each week sees him slip deeper into madness. A different Founding Father is assigned to watch him each day."</p><p>They all have different ways of doing so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. George Washington

**Author's Note:**

> So, I decided to fall for a webseries that hasn't been updated since 2012 and that has one fic total and I wrote a fic. Please bear with me, this is the first fic I've written in a long time and isn't beta'd or anything, so there might be some mistakes or sentences that don't flow or anything. Sorry! 
> 
> Let me know what you think and if you have any ideas or suggestions, let me know!

General George Washington had never thought he’d see James Madison in such a state. Surely, the man had never been the healthiest of his officers, but even when he’d been wounded by the battle of Trenton Madison had made more sense than he did now. The seemingly random ramblings worried Washington greatly, it made him fear for what would happen to his friend more than anything. In his current state, almost childlike in his manners and even more so in his communications, Madison was easy to take advantage of.  The mere thought send shivers down the general’s spine. No, he had to do everything in his power to prevent that. 

The other Founding Fathers had all agreed to look after Madison the best they could. He was their friend, after all, and they would not see him locked away. And so, they all took turns. It was a little strange in the beginning. Madison would act unpredictably sometimes, or on his worst days, when he’d forgotten how to use a spoon, mind too far gone, they would have to feed him, among other less pleasant things. Washington wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but it had to be done.   
  
Besides doing the things they were all doing to keep their friend sated and happy, Washington felt like he owed Madison to still take him and the nonsense he sprouted seriously. He was one of them, after all, a Founding Father, one of the men who made America and thus deserved to be treated with as much respect as every other of their group.  

-xXx-

It was a Saturday night and it was Washington’s turn to make sure Madison didn’t destroy something in a fit or hurt himself. A few weeks ago, they had found him trying to plug himself into a power socket, claiming he had to recharge over and over again or he’d fade, everything would fade, it would all be lost... It had scared Jefferson- who had been the first one to find him- incredibly, and since they had agreed to never leave their friend alone at the apartment again.  

The Fishwife had left some games for them to try out, namely Uno, a pack of regular cards, chess and something called Monopoly. They had attempted to play the latter game last night, but it had only caused a big argument between Hamilton and Jefferson about the banking system within the game, which had set Madison off into an endless, incoherent ramble, so Monopoly had been returned this morning with the request for it to be replaced with a different game.

Either way, Washington had thought it a fun pastime to play chess with the youngest of their group to pass the time while the others were doing something else to keep themselves busy within the apartment. And it had started out as fun, Madison had recognized the game and played it in silence, until he became fascinated with knight figurine. He hadn’t looked up from it for minutes now, a strange expression on his face.

With a sigh, Washington had put down the castle he was about to move. He knew what was about to come.

“It is your turn to make a move, Madison,” he urged, hoping it would help. It did catch Madison’s attention. He looked up, a serene smile on his face.

 

“Dolley loves horses,” he informed Washington, holding onto the piece tightly, “I’m going to take her riding when we’re home.” He nodded to himself, picking up another knight. Washington sighed. There was no use continuing the game now, Madison was lost in his own mind again. 

“I’m sure you will and she will enjoy it,” Washington said, deciding to just go with it,  “Have you taken her riding before?” Madison didn’t respond, instead staring at the horses in silence, before standing up and wandering to the kitchen. Washington frowned.

“Madison?” he called, taking a moment to get up and follow.

In the kitchen, Madison had opened the fridge, taken out the orange juice that had “THIS JUICE IS PROPERTY OF FORMER PRESIDENT JOHN ADAMS DO NOT TOUCH OR ELSE” written on it, and poured himself a glass. He’d then sat down on the floor, still clutching the two knights tightly.

“Horses.. Horses, going round and round,” Washington could hear him mumble, “And around again, going nowhere… Never moving, but going around… Up, down, round, round.. Music.” Madison moved one of the knights around, eyes wide as he opened and closed his mouth as if he was trying to find words. Instead a vague noise came out, his forehead screwing up in frustration. “Horses,” he repeated, still not looking up at Washington, “Not moving but they are! Up, down… Fast and slow.”

He dropped the knight. “Till they go no more,” he mumbled, clearly getting distressed, “No more horses, no more hor-”

“Madison.”

Madison’s head snapped up, his wig almost slipping off his head in the process. He seemed confused at his surroundings, panicked even, as if he had forgotten where he was. Which, he probably had. Washington picked up the glass of orange juice, groaning a little as he sat down next to Madison. His back wasn't what it used to be. Madison took the glass, taking a little sip, watching as Washington picked up the fallen knight. It pained him to see how scared Madison looked and mentally cursed himself for the foosball incident. He had to show Madison he wouldn’t be mad again, he wouldn’t throw something, nothing would break this time… 

“Horses going around, huh?” he asked, holding the piece back out, “Tell me more?”

 A small, hesitant smile crept up Madison’s face, as he set his juice down and took the knight back. “You can ride horses, going up, and down…” he told Washington, making the two pieces in his hands touch, “Dolley likes horses.”

He talked. And talked, and talked, and talked. Soon it wasn’t even about horses anymore, but words and sentences barely strung together. And Washington listened. He didn’t understand everything Madison told him, not by far, the man spoke in a code Washington couldn’t figure out, but he could pretend if that meant his friend was safe.  


	2. Alexander Hamilton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamilton has to deal with a sick Madison. He is not amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so hard to write? I don't know why, I think Hamilton is just tough. As a result, it's hella long nd I'm less pleased with it than the last one. There is a bit of a different ending I had in my mind, but I could only work half of it out. I'll post the idea in the endnotes.
> 
> Also, brief warning for talking about vomit and being sick in general! I tried to make it as non-explicit as possible, but it's there!
> 
> Once again, I hope you like it and let me know what you think! Thank you guys so much for your kudos & comments, especially comments help me stay motivated to write despite a busy exam schedule!

It wasn’t that Alexander Hamilton _hated_ watching Madison. Or, well, maybe, but it didn’t have anything to do with the man himself, it was more the case that he had more important things to do. Write, for example, or try and woo Mindy, or try to figure out this Facebook thing. So, usually, he’d just do that and leave Madison with some adult coloring books the youngest Founding Father had taken a great liking to.

Today, however, that would not work. Why not? Madison was sick. Proper sick, physically sick, unable to keep any food down, burning up with fever kind of sick. And Hamilton was the only one home, for once, even Franklin had gone out to do God knows what. Buy more poptarts, probably. Either way, Hamilton was alone in the apartment with a very sick James Madison currently lying flat on the couch in some pajamas, wig discarded to the side and wrapped up in three blankets, preventing him from doing anything else but making soup, cleaning up vomit and making sure Madison didn’t pass out or hurt himself.

 

In short, Hamilton was not very excited. He watched the microwave, waiting for it to send it’s signal the noodlesoup was warmed up. It was the third attempt at finding something Madison could keep down. So far, the beans on toast and mac and cheese (Jefferson’s idea. Damn him.) had not been a success and accounted for pretty gross results. The microwave beeped, and Hamilton quickly took out the noodlesoup, blowing it in an attempt to cool it down.

“Madison?” he called out as he made his way to the living, hoping to find Madison still put on the couch.

He was on the floor.

Well, close enough, Hamilton figured, as he put the noodles down on the table, kneeling down next to Madison. “James?” he checked, nudging his friend, who was lying face down in the carpet, “Are you present?” He shook his shoulder, getting a little worried now. He pulled his friend up, seeing Madison’s eyes were screwed shut, a slightly pained expression on his paler-than-usual-face. “Christ,” Hamilton muttered, slapping Madison’s face gently, “Madison, wake up. I said- wake up. I have microwaved food for you. Come on.” No response. Oh God. Did he die?

“Damnit, James,” Hamilton said, shaking his friend, “Wake up- Don’t die on me. Don’t be dead. They will murder me if you are dead, come on, _wake up._ ”

 

Hamilton was almost thinking about where to hide the body when Madison suddenly came to life, absolutely not getting Hamilton to let out a slight terrified yelp. Madison didn’t seem very awake, just reaching out to cling to Hamilton’s coat. Hamilton quickly fixed his composure, clearing his throat. “Madison, you’re alive,” he said, “Thank the Lord. Please let go of me. I brought food, you need to eat something.” Madison just frowned, letting out a growl and bringing both his hands up to press against his temples.

“No,” he said, staying put on the floor, leaning against the couch, a deep frown on his face, “No. Hammers.”  
“Yeah, sure,” Hamilton said, a little impatiently, “Come on James, you need to eat. Sit on the couch? Do you want your medicine?” Madison shook his head, clearly frustrated as he tried to stand up to sit on the couch. Hamilton reached over to help him when it became evident the smaller man was having a hard time not falling over.

Once sat on the couch, Madison sagged down in the cushions, vaguely waving his arm around as if trying to get some invisible mosquitos to leave him alone.

“Okay, no medicine,” Hamilton just mumbled to himself, before sitting down next to Madison. He checked to see if the soup wasn’t too hot, before scooping up a bit. “Open up,” he said, holding out the spoon to his friend, who stubbornly kept his mouth shut. Hamilton let out a little frustrated noise, urging a little closer with the spoon. Madison still didn’t open up, just turned his head away.

“Why won’t you eat?” Hamilton asked, putting the spoon back down, “Come on. I know the previous attempts weren’t fruitful, but you must eat. We will not have you perish, and you didn’t consume anything yesterday either.” Madison pulled his legs up to his chest, reaching out to tug a blanket up to his chin. He closed his eyes, clearly intent on going to sleep, but Hamilton would not let that happen. He reached over to place a hand on Madison’s forehead, feeling it burn hotter than before. Madison flinched away from his hand, opening his eyes to shoot him a glare.

“Cold,” he hissed, shivering a little as if to emphasize his words. Hamilton’s mind started working.

“You are cold because you do not eat enough,” he said, not even close to sure if that was true, “You must eat. Please.” When Madison still refused, Hamilton was reminded of his young son, Philip.

 

Philip was around two years old, a bright little boy who loved playing with puppies and who already knew how to say hello and goodbye in French and Latin. Hamilton missed him dearly, even more so than he missed his wife, who had been pregnant with their second child when he had disappeared. Perhaps she had already given birth. Hamilton tried not to think about it.  
Either way, Philip sometimes refused to eat as well, because he really was growing into a fussy toddler. His wife had recently found a trick that would always delight his son and get him to eat, so perhaps it would work on Madison as well? It wouldn’t hurt to try, he figured.

And so, he scooped up another portion of noodles, positioning it so it was a little in front of Madison’s face and he started making horse noises while moving the spoon closer to Madison’s face.

 

James Madison just gave him a blank stare.

 

Well, so much for the horse trick. Defeated, Hamilton put the bowl of noodles down on the table. “I’ll just get you some water,” he said, “Stay put.” He stood up, retreating to the kitchen, feeling a little hopeless. Perhaps James just wasn’t hungry. Yes, that would be it.

Returning to the room with a glass of water, Hamilton didn’t even have time to announce he wanted Madison to drink this before a string of noodle landed in his face.

“Wha- Shit,” he sputtered, as more noodles were flung his way, “Madison, what are you- There’s noodles in my wig!” He ducked away, trying to get the bowl of noodles away from Madison’s hand. He didn’t manage; Madison moved to the other side of the couch, making horse noises as he flung more noodles at Hamilton, starting to giggle as more noodles hit target and got stuck in Hamilton’s precious wig.

 

Nobody touches Alexander Hamilton’s wig. _Nobody._

 

“Madison!” Hamilton snapped, “Stop this madness!” That stilled Madison right away, face falling as he dropped the bowl to the floor. His lower lip started quivering, his eyes widened and oh sweet Jesus, he was going to cry. “Madison,” Hamilton said again, already regretting snapping, “My apologies, please do not…” Too late. Tears spilled from Madison’s eyes, his lips forming the word “please” but no sound coming out. Hamilton let out a curse, moving over and pulling the smaller man in his lap.

“Sh, please, James,” he mumbled, “My apologies. I did not mean to upset you, just… Just don’t throw noodles at my wig. It is really hard to clean, you know… Yes, please, please, I know, it’s alright…” He tried his best to calm Madison, letting out a sigh of relief when he stilled.

“Are you alright?” he asked, pulling back a little, noting Madison’s face had drained of all color once more. Madison shook his head, reaching out to pull Hamilton close again.

“Nobody,” he mumbled, “No. All. Bucket. Sleep. Bucket. Need bucket.” Before Hamilton realized what that meant, Madison had doubled over already, spilling what was left in his stomach over Hamilton’s pants.

“My God- Not again, Madison,” Hamilton groaned, “Ugh. Yuck. You need… Christ.” He stood up, hearing Madison hiccup and sniffle a little. “No, don’t cry,” he begged, “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to clean myself and then we’ll clean you and get you to bed, okay?” Madison just nodded, clearly miserable.

“All will fall,” he mumbled, “Not good. Buckets. Need more buckets. We need more buckets, Alex. All will fall.” Hamilton chose to ignore him, instead going to find clean pants and tights. Disgusting. He was so glad he wasn’t the one cursed with doing laundry this week and he didn’t feel sorry for Adams at all. Not after the sewer incident.

 

Soon enough, Hamilton was almost carrying Madison to his bedroom, the man a dead weight against him. Hamilton made sure to tuck him in tightly, sighing a little bit. “You rest,” he softly said, reminded of Philip once more, “You’ll feel better in the morning.” On impulse, he leaned forward to press a kiss to Madison’s clammy forehead. He let out a surprised yelp when Madison reached up to grip his arm.

“Stay,” he mumbled, “Please. Stay. Sleep.” He didn’t open his eyes, just tugged at Hamilton’s arm to try and get him to lay down. Still with his son and his unborn (born?) second child on his mind, Hamilton found himself unable to refuse. And thus he just nodded, taking off his noodled wig and laying it on the nightstand, before crawling under the covers next to Madison, who clung to him like a koala clung to a bamboo tree.

“Sleep well, James,” Hamilton softly said, getting a response in the shape of a muffed yawn.

 

It didn’t take long for either of them to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have half an "added ending" written, where Franklin finds them and texts the other founding fathers a picture but I can't seem to fnish it so you'll have to do without it...
> 
> I hope you liked it, and let me know what you think! Next up, John Adams.


	3. John Adams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's John Adams' turn now, and he gets a little help from Abigail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this took forever because a) John Adams is hard to write and b) I lost my laptop for half a week because I left it on the bus...... Luckily I got it back, so I could work on it again! But because of poitn a) I accidentally switched the pov from John to James after like the third paragraph, so if that irks anyone, sorry!! But I'm kind of wnating to move on from this chapter to the next one.

The thing John Adams loved most about the 21st Century was all the things one could do that he had never thought would be possible. For example, there were big metal constructions that served as racing track for a cart, except you’re unable to steer and it goes really fast _and_  upside down. John wasn’t sure if he had liked that as much as the machine where you sat in a swing seat, and then it went up and you were swung around high in the air. That had been so much fun. John Adams had loved the theme park.

So when the news  about the carnival reached him, he decided he would go. Initially he wanted to go with Abigail, like a date, just the two of them. But then he realized the day they had picked was his day to look after James Madison. Not feeling like cancelling the date, John had asked Abigail if it was okay if James came along. She had said it was okay, and while John felt a little guilty, Abi and James seemed to hit right off. They were wandering ahead of John, Abigail telling James how to craft an alien out of glue, clay and some tinfoil, James absolutely delighted by the entire concept of science fiction and aliens. John tried to convince himself he wasn’t jealous, that he was happy James seemed to finally be making a friend in the 21st Century. Even if John saw her first. 

Thankfully, at least if you asked John, they reached the carnival before Abbi could get into how spaceships worked. “Hey, look, we’re there,” John said, subtly placing himself between Abigail and James. He took her arm, shooting a small glare at James, who seemed a little confused as to what he’d done to receive that glare. Abigail just seemed amused, shaking her head a little bit.

“What do you want to do first?” she asked, raising her voice to be heard over the loud noises of the carnival. James gave a shrug, not too sure what one could all do at a carnival like this. It was loud, for sure, bright, and there were so many machines doing things that made the people in them scream, so James wasn’t too sure if they were very pleasant to begin with. He could smell a lot of sweets and fried food, though, so at least there was something pleasant to be experienced here. Before he could suggest getting something pink and fluffy to eat, John had already swooped in.

“Let’s go on that ride,” he suggested, pointing at a ride of which the purpose seemed to be to ride in endless circles on fake animals. There were quite a few children sitting on oversized pigs or horses, and there even was a massive teacup that seemed to be spinning around on its own as well. James almost got sick just looking at the cup. He followed Abigail, who seemed to find John’s choice hilarious for some reason, and John, who seemed rather proud of his choice, to the carrousel. The tune coming from it was quite catchy, and James found himself humming along as he tried to pick out the best horse, the one that would go fastest. He eventually decided on a fierce looking white stallion with light blue streaks in its mane. Light blue is Dolley’s favorite color, James thought as he climbed on it with a clack of his tongue, more out of habit than anything else. He quite missed riding horses, the mechanical ones they called “cars” and “subways” just didn’t give him that same thrill. Perhaps riding this one would.

 

Once seated on the horse, James looked around him. The horse wasn’t as big as he was used to, so his feet were very close to the ground, but not quite reaching it. He tried to reach it with his toes, when he realized someone was staring at him from two horses over. On a pink elephant, a girl around the age of seven, was staring at him.

“Mommy, what’s that mister doing? Why’s his hair so silly? Is he crazy- I mean, sick upstairs, like granny?” he could hear her ask, voice high and innocent. He frowned in her general direction, clinging to the pole protruding from his horse. He wanted to inform them he wasn’t sick, he’d just gotten better, in fact. He couldn’t really form the words, though, instead just mumbling something about Hamilton doing his best. He casted his eyes down when the woman glared at him, as seemed appropriate. She didn’t answer her daughter’s question, instead lifting the girl up.

“We’ll find a better elephant,” she told her, “Don’t worry about the crazy man.” With a final glare towards James and completely ignoring the girl’s protests, the mother lifted the girl from the pink elephant’s back and carried her out of James’ sight.

 

Strange, was all that James thought, when the carrousel suddenly began moving. He let out a yelp, clinging to the pole rather tightly. This was going faster than he’d expected. He tried not to look to terrified- after all, there were children laughing not three horses and teacups away from him. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded though and kind of wished John and Abbi hadn’t found themselves a different teacup to sit in. Or that Dolley was here. She would probably have enjoyed this, he wistfully thought, and made fun of him for being scared. He frowned a little. He didn’t want Dolley to think he was being silly and scared. He hesitantly let go of the pole with one hand, spreading his arm out. When he kept his balance, he slowly did the same with his other arm.

A large grin broke out on his face. The horse was going up and down, the carrousel was going around in circles and James felt as if he was flying. This was much more fun than riding subways or ice-skating, he thought as he let out a laugh. He felt  free, for a moment.

 

James opened his eyes only when the ride slowed down. That was so much fun, he thought. He couldn’t wait to write Dolley about this, she must have gotten his previous letters by now. She’d love to read about this adventure, he figured. He let out a happy sigh, climbing of his brave stallion. He gave it a little pat on its neck before he went to find John and Abigail.

John and Abigail had chosen a teacup on the other side of the carrousel for some reason. The teacups still terrified James. He patiently waited until his two friends came out, looking a little… disheveled. Abbi was closing up the buttons of her coat, face a little red. John was smiling very strangely, his wig on backwards and his cravat untied. James let out a little sigh, shuffling over and tiptoeing to pull John’s wig on the right way. He wasn’t going to let his friend look so silly. He shook his head, wondering if the teacup really did go so fast that John’s wig had flown off. That probably was it, James  thought to himself. He was glad he’d chosen a horse instead.

“Much better,” he informed John about the wig, offering a polite smile to a blushing Abigail. She was a lady, after all, even if she was much different than the ladies James was used to in his own time. She cleared her throat, hooking her arm through John’s.

 “Let’s go do something else,” she said, voice a little loud and firm, “Come on, let’s go on the Ferris wheel.”

-xXx-

Many attractions later, most of which made James very dizzy, he finally got John to listen and get them some food. He was not quite feeling the hotdogs Abigail went for, neither the corndogs John went for. (Was everything food-related named after some sort of dog?) He looked around, fancying something sweeter, like churros, or an apple. He shook his head at the suggestion of candy floss, expressing his desire for an apple instead.

“Apple,” he insisted, causing John to groan for some reason. There was nothing bad about him wanting an apple... Abbi, however, just looked thoughtful.

“I can get you an apple,” she said, hooking her arms through his and dragging- quite literally- him to some stand, “Caramel apples!” James was rather skeptical at first- caramel on apples? With nuts too? Didn’t that take away the whole point of apples being healthy? That skepticism was soon taken away, though, when he took his first sticky bite. His entire face lit up as he dug into it, not caring about the caramel getting all over his face. He barely noticed the picture John took on his recently acquired telephone, sending it in something called a “group chat.” James could feel his own phone buzz, but he paid it no mind, too busy devouring the sticky apple.

The apple could not last  forever, though, much to James’ disappointment. Maybe they could buy a couple more to take home, he could introduce them to the others. Benjamin was sure to love them, he thought, that man had a sweet tooth. It surprised James he had any teeth left with all the sugary pop tarts he’d been consuming since their arrival. But then again, dental hygiene was much better in this century.

 

James followed Abbi and John around the carnival, letting them go on some rides he didn’t quite fancy. Something called a “Haunted House” was not a house he wanted to go in. What if there were ghosts? Which, there probably were. Why else would it be called a haunted house? So he waited outside, wandering off when it took him too long. He stumbled across a booth, first noticing the guns chained up to the counter, and then the two brightly colored parrots on a shelf. A very bored teenager was sitting on the chair, chewing gum and waiting for someone to come up and… Do what? Shoot her? That didn’t seem like a productive way of making money, James thought. He then noticed the balloons behind her, attached to targets. Ah.

Now, James might be a little out of it, he was not stupid. He soon enough had figured out that for shooting the balloons, you could get prizes. And he wanted those parrots. The green one really looked like the one Dolley owned… He hated that beast, but at the same time he kind of missed the way it would annoy him to no end. He walked up to the teenager, taking off his hat.

“Good day,” he said, doing his best to articulate clearly. He held out some currency, pointing at the parrots, “I wish to acquire those, if you please.” The teen looked up, shrugging.

 “You get five shots, pop three balloons and it’s yours,” she said, unlocking a gun and handing it to James, “Good luck.”

 

Fifteen minutes later, James was holding his prizes close to his chest. Besides the two parrots he had won for himself and Dolley, he’d also won a small plastic guitar for Thomas to practice on, a Batman mask for Benjamin, who’d been really obsessed with watching the tv cartoon lately, a pink hairbrush for Alexander to sort his wig out, a hobby horse for George because he knew how much the general missed his horses and last but not least a set of small alien toys for Abbi and John, so they could work on science fiction dioramas together.

 

He was pretty good at shooting balloons.

 

“Oh, there you are!” A rather frantic looking John Adams came rushing towards him, wig in hands. He quickly put it back on his head, panting a little bit. “What is all of this? Where have you been?” he asked upon seeing what James was all carrying. The younger man just smiled, nodding in the general direction of the shooting stand.

“I shot,” he simply said, as Abigail caught up to them and took some of the prizes out of James’ arms. Prizes that would hopefully make his friends very happy, because that was all he intended to do.

“You won a lot,” Abbi said, clearly impressed as she stuffed some of the things in a bag, “How’d you do that?” James smiled, and clutched the parrots close to his chest as John took the plastic guitar and hobbyhorse from his arms.  

“Easier than redcoats,” was all he said, before sinking back into his own thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, Thomas Jefferson. Leave comments and kudos to keep me motivated you guys!! Also, thanks to madison-has-done-nothing-wrong for letting me know about the parrots!!


End file.
